


fight 'til we see the sunlight

by burbear



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Courtroom Drama, Feelings, M/M, Maria Stark's Good Parenting, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Pre-Slash, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 02:08:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19075330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burbear/pseuds/burbear
Summary: There are days where Tony regrets not going back on his word, where he wishes he had told Steve “No, actually, keep that murderer out of my house and as far from me as possible.” Pepper and Rhodey even said he should. Not in as many words, certainly not because of Barnes, but because they know Tony.Tony knows, though, that the safest place for Barnes—and everyone else, since the first day people found out about the Winter Soldier more and more civilians were getting grand ideas about bringing him in—is the Tower. His only stipulation is that Steve keeps Barnes away from him.His timer is steadily ticking toward zero, to the day he meets his soulmate, but to be honest? Tony has a lot more on his mind than someone fate picked out for him.





	fight 'til we see the sunlight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [siyuttov](https://archiveofourown.org/users/siyuttov/gifts).



> if i'm honest with myself there is a much longer fic hiding in here
> 
> huge big thanks to writerly, the best pegasus there ever was, is, and will be 💚
> 
> i'll list the prompts at the end! cheers to you, siyuttov, i hope you enjoy :)

 

_91:19:12.016_

  
“Sir, Captain Rogers is here to see—”

 JARVIS’ voice is cut off by the doors opening, Steve’s footsteps skidding to a halt a few feet away from Tony, barely audible to Tony’s ears as they adjust to the absence of AC/DC.

 “Whoa, Cap, where’s the fire?” Tony asks. He saves his work and, after a thought or two of debate, decides to hold onto his screwdriver. He listens better if he can fidget with something. Being able to fidget means he won’t watch his timer tick, and that’s always driven him a bit batty.

 Steve’s breathing a little hard, not like Tony or Clint would be from jogging a few flights of stairs. He’s barely winded, not even red in the face.

 “It’s Bucky,” Steve says finally. “We found him.”

 Shock and excitement ripple through his spine. “Steve, that’s great! Wait, who’s bringing him in? Why are you still here, you should be—where is he, anyway?”

 “Romania.”

 “Romania? Wow, how’d he get all the way over there? Doesn’t matter, you should’ve been there yesterday.”

 “Trust me, I wish I were. It’s been brought to my attention that I… stand out in a crowd and tend to lose focus when it comes to Bucky.”

 Photostatic veils or some good costuming would have solved the first problem easily. Given that Steve let himself get nearly killed by his best friend, however… Well, Tony can see that being too big a problem for practical effects to cover up. “Let me guess, Nat told you that.”

 A warm smile livens up Steve’s expression. “Yeah, she did.” He clears his throat, determination hardening his features again. “She apparently knew him from… from before.”

 It’s a story Steve’s clearly not going to tell, and maybe he shouldn’t, Tony thinks. Natasha holds her secrets very dear and close to her heart. Nevertheless his curiosity is piqued, filing it away for some other time. “Well, if anyone can do it, it’s definitely her. I’d say he’s in good hands.”

 Steve snorts. “I know better than to doubt Nat.”

 “Good, smart man.”

 Steve nods. Crosses and uncrosses his arms. Tony twirls his screwdriver in his hands, feels the grip rotate and catch against his calluses every few turns. Clearly there’s something on Steve’s mind, and Tony’s trying his best not to demand he spit it out, already.

 He holds out for another forty seconds. The awkward silence is killing him, okay? “So is Nat gonna bring him back here? He’s definitely not going to SHIELD, or whatever the hell’s left of it, I’m strongly disagreeing if that’s the plan, Cap.”

 That all-American jaw ticks, blue eyes flashing with anger. “God no, he’s not going into government hands if I can help it,” Steve says.

 “Well good, then he’s coming here.”

 And Steve’s shoulders relax, just a little bit, and Tony finds himself releasing a bit of tension of his own, switching from twirling the screwdriver to tapping the grip against his fingers.

 “Tony, I… thank you, I know he’d be safest here,” Steve says, hesitance slowing his words a little. “But I can’t ask that of you—”

 “Cap, Steve, of course he can stay here, he’s staying here,” Tony says, bewildered by the idea that Steve ever thought he’d say “no.” When had he ever given off that impression, that he wouldn’t house the most dangerous people on the planet? Hell, both Pepper and Rhodey like to make fun of him for it. Good-natured ribbing, all in good fun, how he collects strays, hoping he can fix their problems. “So he’s one more mouth to feed, it’s not gonna break my wallet.”

 Steve shakes his head. “I’m not doubting your generosity, Tony, that’s not in question here. It’s… There’s something you should know, something I have to tell you, first. And if it changes your mind, then so be it, but you’re my friend, too, and I can’t in good conscience do this without you knowing the truth.”

 Tony swallows. It’s hard not to focus on Steve calling him his friend. “Wow, sounds serious. Should I sit down?”

 The joke falls completely flat. Normally Steve would roll his eyes, scoff, fire back, something.

 Alright, Tony thinks, and his spine straightens, his arms crossing over his chest, preparing himself for what Steve wants to tell him.

 “Tony,” Steve starts, then takes a deep, fortifying breath, clenching his fists as he continues, “at Camp Lehigh, when Nat and I found Zola, or what was left of him, he… He implied something about your parents’ deaths, that it wasn’t an accident.”

  _Try to remember..._

 His hand clenches the end of the screwdriver, grips it tight enough to hurt. The sharp pain yanks him back into his body, and Tony has to really concentrate on looking at Steve because his eyes are trying to look somewhere far away, somewhere past Steve, past reality. The distant notes of a piano reach his ears, the smell of his mom’s perfume faint in the air, and for a moment he forgets it’s 2014. “Oh?” Tony’s not sure if he should be proud or ashamed of how bland his tone sounds. “Well. Okay, I’ll bite, Cap. What did the Nazi in the machine have to say about it, hm?”

 “Tony—”

 “Because, really, Steve, they’re liars and manipulators, can’t trust a word they say—”

 “I know that, but Tony—”

  _… the kind of September..._

 “— probably a distraction so he could buy some time to blow you into patriotic pink mist—”

 “Tony,” Steve says again, voice breaking, and this time Tony manages to shut up, the hard click of his teeth so loud and final in the sudden silence. Steve’s eyes shine in the light of the workshop; Tony watches his lashes flutter in an attempt to blink it away. “I don’t know if it’s true, God knows I don’t want it to be, it’s bad enough as it is what they’ve done to him.”

 The room goes fuzzy, the ground uneven as Tony blindly reaches for the table behind him.

Thankfully Steve stays where he is, though his hands twitch forward, his stance changing from even-footed to one foot in front of the other, or was it one foot behind, as if in a stagger? “Tony, I’m sorry, but HYDRA arranged what happened to them and it’s possible... It’s possible that HYDRA used Bu— t _he Winter Soldier_ to do it.”

_When grass was green…_

Tony falls this time, his mother’s soft, melodic voice turning into a long, drawn out note. He can’t hear Steve or JARVIS at all, can’t feel the floor beneath him or the heaving, gasping gulps of air he’s taking.

When one of his suits crouches down in front of him, he blinks against the familiar light blue glow, his eyes stinging and dry. His cheeks itch where tears trailed down his face. Steve’s gone, which is probably for the best. Who knows how much of that he saw, Tony thinks bitterly.

“Sir?” comes out of the suit’s speakers.

The hole in Tony’s chest feels a little less all-consuming and he nods, sucking in a deep breath, and then another for good measure. “Yeah, J, I’m… I’m here, I’m— _ow!_ ”

Dum-E beeps and runs into Tony’s knee a little more gently this time, Butterfingers and U just behind him.

He knows he should say something more, something reassuring, that he’s okay, he’s fine. Butterfingers and U crowd up on his other side, their edges digging into his back, and when JARVIS rests a gauntlet on his knee Tony realizes he doesn’t have to say anything. Here, Tony is allowed to simply be.

Tony relaxes into the embrace, and for a little while longer, he lets himself grieve.

  


* * *

 

_29:05:19:07.001_

 

For the last two months JARVIS has been scanning the files Natasha dumped to expose HYDRA. She had also given him details about Barnes’ life in his shabby little apartment in Romania. “You know, for what it’s worth, anyway,” she’d said with her cryptic, sad smile.

Barnes is set to go to trial in a couple of weeks, and his lawyers asked if Tony would testify on his behalf.

Tony paces the length of the workshop. He paces the width of the workshop.

He paces and paces and paces while JARVIS tags any and every file even tangentially related to the Winter Soldier.

The result is a long list, and not for the reasons Tony thought it would be.

“I took the liberty of screening each file, Sir,” JARVIS says as the categories hover in front of Tony. “I do not recommend watching any of the videos as they are…”

“Disturbing? Horrifying?”

“At the very least, Sir. Reading the files will be more than enough, but, again, they are highly disturbing. I would suggest making an appointment with your therapist before going forward.”

There are days where Tony regrets not going back on his word, where he wishes he had told Steve “No, actually, keep that murderer out of my house and as far from me as possible.” Pepper and Rhodey even said he should. Not in as many words, certainly not because of Barnes, but because they know Tony.

Tony knows, though, that the safest place for Barnes—and everyone else, since the first day people found out about the Winter Soldier more and more civilians were getting grand ideas about bringing him in—is the Tower. His only stipulation is that Steve keeps Barnes away from him. JARVIS helps, too, alerting him when Barnes actually makes it out of his room every once in awhile to go to his own therapy sessions.

It’s Tony who leaves, however, when JARVIS finds a file titled “16 Декабрь 1991 г.” Despite all of JARVIS’ warnings, he needs to watch this tape. After all, he’s forgone watching the others in favor of reading the files with all their grisly torture and gore, their impersonal treatment and clinical documentation of their experiments, like they weren’t being carried out on a human being. Tony had to force himself to stop reading several times so he could run to the nearest toilet, or trash can, or mop bucket, whatever happened to be in reach.

So he watches the tape because he has to know if it’s all true. It’s one thing to read it, but Tony needs to see. He needs to know what the Winter Soldier was like in action, what the puppet was like when given a mission.

Tony watches a shell of a man carry out two brutal murders, watches him steal his mother’s last breath with a squeeze of that metal hand.

Steve’s “possible” is reality, is fact.

The Winter Soldier killed Howard and Maria Stark.

 

* * *

  
_00:02:00:08.502_

 

In the end, Tony stays in Malibu for a few weeks, where, in the comfort of his home, with Pepper and Rhodey and JARVIS and the bots, Tony feels like he can breathe.

The lawyers give him as much time as can be allowed for him to give an answer.

It’s easy to say “yes” as much as it is “no.”

Tony takes his friends’ advice and waits for those extreme feelings to dull, as much as something like this can, at least. He mulls over the information he knows, stares into the dead grey eyes haunting his nightmares, and he thinks about the quiet man in his tower, the one who disappeared to a dirty little apartment in Romania to rebuild himself, who goes to therapy every week, sometimes more than that.

He thinks about what Barnes has had to endure and what he knows of the man who came out the other side if that torture.

Tony says he’ll do it. Steve calls Tony when he finds out and passes on Barnes’ thanks. Tony hangs up before Steve can say more, unsure how he’ll feel about it, he doesn’t want to find out, either.

He takes the remaining time he has to shore up his strength and perfect his statements. He attends the trial from its beginning. Tony finds himself glancing at his timer every now and then, angry that he’s so close to meeting them, that he’ll probably meet them in this courtroom.

Even better, he discovers as he does the math on the way to the trial, he’s to meet them on the day they want him on the stand.

“Whoever you are, you have shitty timing,” he grumbles to himself as he gets out of the car. The steps to the courthouse loom before him. Far too much waits for him inside there, and Tony desperately wants to run, to fly away.

He goes anyway.

To say that testifying on Barnes’ behalf was difficult is probably one of the biggest understatements of his life. Being cross-examined is definitely worse, and on a surface level Tony knows the prosecutors are doing their job. Honestly, it’s only thanks to years of being in front of the press that Tony doesn’t let himself look visibly angry. Bad enough that this old wound continually gets ripped open, worse that it’s for all the world to see, but nothing compares to being provoked over and over again to blame someone who doesn’t deserve it.

Tony wants justice, sure, but he’ll be damned if they make Barnes the one to serve it.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark, you may step down,” the judge instructs.

Tony nods and stands, buttoning his suit. Voices shout for his attention, for the jury’s, the judge’s. The sharp crack of the gavel barely makes a dent in the volume, though the judge threatening the contempt of the court as well as turning this into a closed trial fixes that.

As he crosses from the witness stand to the little gate, Barnes suddenly stands. Tony raises a hand toward the bailiff and to Steve, his eyes rolling once both stand down. He looks at Barnes and waits, watches the man gather himself.

“Mr. Stark,” Barnes finally says. “Thank you. For everything.”

Tony doesn’t know why he stops, but he turns and looks at the man who’d been forced to murder his parents, and he holds out his hand. “Of course, Mr. Barnes.”

To the shock of everyone around them, especially Tony, and maybe Barnes, too, from the way his eyes widen at the hand held out to him, Barnes lifts his right hand and grips Tony’s own, warm against his.

 

_00:00:00:00.00_

 

His eyes close, he exhales his last breath, his heart stops.

For one second, for an eternity, Tony Stark dies and begins life anew, his heartbeat in sync with his soulmate’s own, pulsing between their clasped hands.

Barnes’ eyes are wide with disbelief, flicking back and forth between Tony’s face and their hands. Tony looks down, startling at his counter.

 

_00:00:00:03.000_

 

“Huh,” he says numbly, watching the numbers go up.

They both let go, their hands dropping at their sides, and Tony makes his way out of the courtroom, ignoring the cacophony of questions and demands for answers.

 

* * *

 

_03:10:19:01.070_

 

In his heart of hearts he knows this is going to end in Barnes’ favor; even so, Tony can’t help but worry that it won’t. It’s his thing, he worries.

God, anxiety is _stupid_. Crawling up his throat and sitting there while the judge calls for the verdict, his lungs burning for a breath he dare not draw until Tony hears him absolved.

_As to the count of…_

Tony doesn’t envy this jury at all. He does hate them a little, if only because a man’s life is in their hands, a man whose life has already been full of punishment enough to cover the sins of everyone in this room. A man who, the moment he found himself free, immediately took it upon himself to start the healing process, to build a quiet little life that wasn’t much, but it was _his_ , and he chose to memorialize those victims of HYDRA by filling journal upon journal of those nightmares, the ones that he could remember, anyway.

_… we the jury find the defendant…_

The journals, the videos, the days of testifying, cross-examination—Barnes having to relive all of that horror as publicly as possible is punishment enough in Tony’s eyes if they do settle on a guilty verdict.

But it’s not up to him.

It can go either way and it’s not up to him, but God, if it was.

He’ll always miss his mother. Maria wasn’t perfect, no parent ever is, but she did not deserve what happened. She was good and kind, when she was there. Comforted him when he needed it, and let him do the same for her after she fought with Howard. Maria tried her best for Tony, Maria loved Tony.

She did not deserve what happened to her, and neither did Barnes.

_… not guilty._

_… not guilty._

“Not guilty.”

Tony doesn’t get up with the rest of them and cheer, or boo, in a few cases. The spirit is willing, but the body sags with relief, blinking back tears. He can only imagine how Barnes feels right now.

Justice has indeed won this day, and as he catches Barnes’ eyes Tony offers up a smile, and he receives a small if watery one in return.

For the first time in months, Tony’s heart is at ease.

 

* * *

 

_14:04:02:01.400_

 

“Sir, Sergeant Barnes asks permission to enter.”

“Sure, why not,” Tony says absently. “Tell him to make himself comfortable or whatever.”

“Of course, Sir.”

At least thirty seconds tick by without the _whoosh_ of the workshop doors opening, so Tony stops his work on the gauntlet. “Uh, J? Something wrong with the doors?”

“Not at all, Sir. Sergeant Barnes said he could come back when you aren’t busy.”

 

“I’m always busy,” Tony automatically replies. He’s both touched and annoyed that Barnes worries about infringing on his time. Clearly Tony hasn’t done a very good job of making him feel more welcome since the trial ended, something he intends to remedy very quickly. He should probably start with referring to him as “Bucky” instead of “Barnes” inside his head. “Tell him to come in, J, tell him, oh hell, patch me through to the speakers. I said come in, Tasty Freeze!”

The doors whoosh open and Barnes—Bucky enters, head on a swivel. Not in that traumatized sort of way, thankfully, but in awe and delight. That’s how Tony chooses to interpret Bucky’s wide eyes and small smile, at any rate.

Tony drags his eyes from that smile and saves what he was working on. “So! Welcome to my workshop.”

“It’s incredible,” Bucky says softly. He stops a few feet away from Tony, both hands tucked into the front pocket of his sweater. “You sure ‘m not botherin’ you?”

“Nope, not at all,” Tony replies, his tone firm enough that he hopes there’s no more arguing the point. “What do you need?”

Bucky flushes, the color painting his cheeks and ears. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, leaving Tony very interested in what his soulmate could possibly be so embarrassed about. He’s damn near vibrating in his seat from the suspense, and nine seconds later his patience is rewarded.

“It’s my arm. Uh, more specifically—” his hands come out of his sweater pocket, and Tony bites back what would surely be an undignified noise “— it’s my hand.”

Tony giggles, then snorts, then gives up and laughs. “Oh, bold strategy, flip off the guy trying to help you,” he says. Clearing some table space with a sweep of his hand, Tony pats the chair next to him.

“I’m not—I was flipping off Steve! It just... kinda got stuck this way.”

The laughter starts up again while Bucky sits down, arm laid out between them, middle finger and thumb extended. As he gets a look, a real good look at Bucky’s arm, Tony has the passing thought that working on the arm should bother him. Instead, he finds himself more bothered by thinking he should be bothered, and he casts the thought aside. Bucky asked for help and Tony’s going to help, one way or another.

“Not that I’m opposed to this kind of behavior but why are we flipping off Steve? And if you can describe what happened when it got stuck, that would be helpful.”

Bucky huffs. “Damn thing’s locked, like it seized up. Wrist and elbow still articulate like normal, though.”

“Hm, I’ll start with the forearm and work my way up,” Tony mumbles to himself as he grabs his soldering iron and jeweler’s kit. “Now come on, spill. Flipping off Steve because?”

“Because he was bein’ a punk,” Bucky replies, his right shoulder hunching up as he deliberately doesn’t look at Tony.

Interesting.

“Steve’s always a punk,” Tony says, gently prising the plates open. “And if that actually were the reason I’d be flipping him off twenty-four seven. Hey, that gives me an idea, JARVIS, make a note—”

“I will not, Sir.”

“Rude, you haven’t even heard my idea, yet.”

Suddenly, Bucky laughs, and he looks as startled as Tony feels. They end up smiling at each other, and that lights Tony’s heart up something warm and soft. Tony ends up being the one to break the moment, settling back in to work. Bucky did come in with a problem, after all.

A few minutes pass, then Bucky says, “Steve kept askin’ if I’d talked to you.”

Tony pauses, slides his gaze over to Bucky. His cheeks are red again, or maybe the flush from earlier never went away to begin with. “About?” he asks, turning his attention to some old circuitry. Damn things should have been replaced years ago, Tony should really just design something better, lighter for sure, with a clean power source—

“About our timers.”

Oh. “Oh,” Tony says. Carefully disconnecting a clearly fried component, Tony drops it into a little dish, the tiny _plink_ sound seeming louder than it should. He picks up a replacement with his tweezers and sets it into place. “Steve needs to mind his business.”

Bucky snorts. “That’s what I said,” he grumbles, “an’ then he called me a chicken, so I—well, you know the rest.”

As he puts all the connections together, Tony grins. “That I do,” he replies. “Let me get this last one and then try moving it.”

Tony pulls back once he’s done. Bucky’s fingers immediately relax into an open position. “Thank you,” Bucky murmurs. “For everything.”

Those words draw Tony’s eyes to Bucky’s right wrist, to the numbers steadily going up. “You know, I think you’ve said that already.”

“I’ll probably say it a couple more times, too, just so you know.”

“Well, don’t. Gratitude gives me hives.”

Bucky laughs, his eyes and nose wrinkle with it. It’s ridiculous how endearing such small details like that are to him, yet Tony can’t help but commit the way they look to memory. He feels like the world’s biggest sap, except Bucky’s expression has turned impossibly soft. Like he had done the first time they met, Bucky offers Tony his hand. “We’re gonna be okay, aren’t we.”

Without even thinking twice Tony takes his hand. “You know what? I think we are.”

**Author's Note:**

> here are the prompts i chose:
> 
>  
> 
> _Soulmark Timer AU where Steve told Tony the truth after WS and Tony was fine with him bringing Bucky in as long as he didn't have to see him. He's going to testify in Bucky's defense at the trial though, and as the day grows nearer he gets more and more nervous as his time ticks closer and closer to zero + Bucky's metal arm freezes giving the middle finger_
> 
>  
> 
> i hope you've enjoyed what you've read!


End file.
